


Atonement

by SchwarzerWolf



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Casual Sex, Conflict, Conflicted emotion, Dancing, Dream Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Sex, F/M, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Hate that they like each other, Human Experimentation, Humor, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Reaper basically going through a reconstructional perception, Rough Sex, Scars, Slow Burn, Tango, Wet Dream, heat - Freeform, present overwatch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 17:19:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16917069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchwarzerWolf/pseuds/SchwarzerWolf
Summary: There was nothing left for these two killers. Especially for the case of Amélie Larcroix, now known as the Talon assassin 'Widowmaker'. After something went wrong with Larcroix's initial conditioning and procedure, she escapes from Talon's clasp - inevitably being hunted by the organisation that kidnapped her and made her into the murderer she was now. Among these hunters, was a member of the Talon council - Reaper. Upon seeing the newly regained Larcroix, he begins to see things in a different light. Maybe, just maybe, seeing her as the sole thing to hold onto.





	Atonement

**Author's Note:**

> \- (Initially something I wrote on FF, just posting to share on AO3. Hope you guys like it.)
> 
>  
> 
> “Absolute silence leads to sadness. It is the image of death.” – Jean Jacques Rousseau

Reaper stood silently as he lurked over the edge of the hovership, overlooking the main courtyard to Chateau Guillard – the tall statue of the marble bust standing tall and centred, it’s concrete texture shimmering as the moonlight glistened off it’s surface. He growled solemnly as he leapt off the vehicle and landed with a light thud against the stone ground. He watched as the Talon pilot nodded as a confirmation for his departure and the ship’s engines roared to life, sending the vessel forward and disappearing into the dark horizon.

Reaper’s eyes scouted his environment. There was no trace of light to be found in the main castle nor in the courtyard, through strained vision – bodies of Talon soldiers were scattered against the walls and pavements. The wraith takes several steps forward before being halted as his intercom received an incoming message. With two clawed fingers, he tapped his earpiece and proceeded to speak.

“Reaper here.” He murmured huskily, aware of the dangers that may lurk around him.

“Remember Reaper…” The voice of Moira was cold and unforgiving; her accent twisted and turned with every syllable – sending a foreign chill down the wraith’s spine, “Larcroix is to be considered _extremely_ dangerous. Several recovery teams were sent to her last reported location, none of which returned nor were heard from again.”

“It looks like I found your missing teams…” Reaper growled in distaste as he walked over a Talon soldier’s corpse and continued further into the dark abyss of the Chateau. “Fill me in Moira. What. Happened?” Silence hovered for a few moments before the Talon councilwomen sighed in a tone of grief and disappointment.

 “She simply escaped.”

 “Just…escaped?” Reaper’s tone escalated slightly before returning to a more composed state as he entered the estate’s interior setting.

 “We don’t know how nor why she managed to free herself from the procedure – however before our surveillance monitors could even alert us to Larcroix’s outbreak, she had already escaped our compound.”

 Reaper paused, stones shifting forward as his heavy boots kicked them down the dark corridors of the castle. He turned his head over his shoulder and observed his surroundings, the eerie silence of these ancient walls accompanied by the slandered waves crashing against the Chateau’s foundation hindered Reaper’s train of thought. Yet the longer he stood stationary, the more he realised that he was not alone on this deserted fortress.

 “Moira…cut the line. I think I’m being watched.”

“She is to be subdued safely, NOT killed. Do you understand that Gabriel?”

“Mm.” Reaper hummed as his hands reached into his coat and revealed two of his heavy Hellfire shotguns and resting his arms next to his thighs.

“Good luck. Bring her back in one piece. Moira out.”

Reaper continued to explore the deserted estate. No matter which corridor he turns towards, it would be littered with the corpses of Talon soldiers and bullet casings that were dispensed on the ruched carpet floor. He felt little as he passed the deceased bodies of his subordinates; Talon served no personal attachment to him or his goals. They were simply a means to an end, that or he was already desensitized to his own pain and experiences of war that he never bothered to care. However, there was one reason he came to look for Widowmaker alone – it began with a promise. A promise he intended to keep.

The wraith finds himself in the main dining hall, the noble banners holding a revered coat of arms were depicted clearly, even in the darkened and gloomy state of the castle – having nothing but the moonlight shining brightly through the antique windows. The long dining table was situated neatly and untouched, a bowl was situated on the other side of the table to where Reaper was standing. Someone ate from that bowl recently. As he moved on from the dining hall, the air saturated with a sense of a woman’s aroma, keeping Reaper alert and notifying him that his target was not far. As the dining hall integrated into a small personal study, Reaper realised that this was area held a heavy presence. The area was kept tidy, holoscreens were on display – depicting articles long forgotten to the pages of time, large weapon cases were opened, inside was the outline of where Widowmaker’s rifle would be placed. He loomed around, closer to the where the holoscreens were set up – his eyes scanning the contents quickly.

**_‘MURDUR OF OVERWATCH OFFICIAL’_ **

**_‘MISSING WIFE CONNECTED TO THE LARCROIX MURDUR?’_ **

**_‘THE COLLAPSE OF OVERWATCH? TALON SUSPECTED IN INVOLVEMENT OF THE LARCROIX INCIDENT’_ **

The headlines were nearly endless. Reaper pondered for several moments, attempting to piece together with what little information Moira provided him. Widowmaker…escaping the main Talon compound, exiling herself with no means of communication and subsequently killing any Talon force that sets foot on her estate. To Reaper it meant one of two things, her procedure to her conditioning has somehow deteriorated or malfunctioned – sending her on a crazed killing spree and utilising her skills to achieve isolation. Or the other in which Reaper did not think was possible in the first place. Maybe, just maybe. _She_ returned.

As Reaper realised that there was nothing left for him to observe in Widowmaker’s private study, he begins to resume his hunt for the missing sniper. As he approached the east side of the Chateau from the study, his eyes instantly caught an item of interest. Even in the darkest atmosphere, Reaper’s vision was not deterred. Against an empty bookshelf stood a lone frame standing on one of its beams. Reaper walked towards the bookshelf and holstered one of his weapons in order to retrieve this object. As Reaper retracted his arm, the moonlight pierced through the heavy shadows and revealed the frame into clear vision. Inside the frame stood an image which nearly made Reaper sigh in sympathy and regret. Though the picture frame’s glass container was shattered, the image of Amèlie Larcroix holding her dear husbands hand on the day of their wedding remained unstained and preserved thoroughly.

At that very moment, Reaper remembered a time long ago. When he was once a man that was considered to be a hero. When there was a time he still had comrades he considered friends, a time when a sense of happiness still resided within him. A time where the _promise_ he vowed to keep was made for the sake of his friend.

 

* * *

 

**Larcroix Estate, Post – Omnic Crisis**

Gabriel leaned solemnly over the balcony railing and watched as the trees swerved to the night wind. The sounds of socialising bureaucrats, Overwatch officials and other strings of so-called ‘high society’ constantly gossiped behind the Blackwatch Commander’s back. One does not even need to be a member of a covert-operations division in order to hear the things those people say.

 With a stiff glass of brandy in his hand, Reyes raises it to his lips and takes a hefty sip from it, swallowing it down with a hard gulp. The constant talking and bickering of social etiquette and boorish topics of state and personal dramas gave Gabriel an overwhelming headache. For his entire Blackwatch career he had been trying to make people talk – to squeeze every last bit of information out of prisoners, criminals, terrorists and other undesirables. Yet in this moment, just this once, he wished people would just stop with their faceless façades – trying to upkeep their own social status for the sake of appeasing the expectations of others, evidently he thought to himself, that they were slaves to other people’s thoughts.

He couldn’t give a damn of what other people thought of him. Those who recognised the secretive logo of the Blackwatch insignia situated on his grey military sleeve had their facial expressions gleaming with twisted and distasteful stares. But who were they to judge a man whom they didn’t understand? Consequently, Gabriel’s ears silenced the eternal sounds of speech and instead listened to the close ocean waves that could be seen in the distance, the sounds of water crashing against the sand drowned out the infernal yapping of social etiquette. A calm composure was held by the Blackwatch Commander and his hand raised his glass to his mouth – this time taking a larger swiv from his preferred brand of liquor.

As he began to lower his guard to the outside environment, his senses immediately lit up as footsteps emerged from the interior of the estate and entered into the balcony space. He turned around, his eyes piercing with hazel intimidation – hoping to scare away to whom he presumed was a wandering guest who waltzed into the wrong area at the wrong time. His gaze warmed as a suited gentleman approached him with no sense of fear or curiosity.

“Sorry I didn’t meet you here earlier Gabriel, the Minister for French interior security can prance on and on about the most inferior matters.” The man said in a bright and near ironic, apologetic manner.

“I’m glad you agreed to meet me here in person Reyes.”

“ _Gérard_ , you know how I **despise** social gatherings like these. Why didn’t you just send me an email? Or a message for God’s sake.”

The man smiled, “Oh. I’m fully aware of how events such as these are not to your liking. Why do you think I invited you?” Gérard proceeded to chuckle at his little taunting jest, causing Gabriel to grumble in irritation and shake his head. Yet after several seconds, the Blackwatch Commander cracks a genuine smile and nods solemnly.

“Hmph. Larcroix you dog. How’re you my friend? That leg of yours healing alright?”

“Agh, still aches dramatically from time to time – the fracture hasn’t completely taken care of itself yet. But I’d rather receive a fracture than be incinerated by that explosion.”

“Well…I’m glad you’re okay.” Reyes replied.

Gérard arrived at Gabriel’s side at the balcony railing and leaned one arm over it to support his upper weight, a glass of soft whiskey sitting against his hovering hand.

“I heard about the Venice incident. I mean…everyone has. Mon dieu. So, Antonio’s dead. By your hand?”

Reyes paused for several moments before nodding. “Yeah. He’s dead. You asked me to come here so you could scold me over it like Jack did?”

Gérard smiles and shakes his head, “On the contrary mon amie. I’ve come to offer you my appreciation.”

Gabriel turns his head and looks at the suited individual with confusion. Gérard sighs and looks over the balcony into the ocean’s horizon, reflecting the bright full moon in the night sky.

“I understand that you took Antonio’s recent attack on a personal level, and as a result you administered Antonio’s fate based on that personal reaction. As your colleague I’d advise against your actions and in fact renounce them. However, as your friend…I thank you. In my mind – you applied the overall justifiable action. Antonio was too big for us to take down legally. His operations were too widespread and his lieutenants serving under him were vast. In the end, Antonio’s death was bound to happen.”

Reyes sighed and quaffed down the final contents of his glass and relinquishing a satisfied gulp, “I was careless. His death might’ve just prolonged this unseen war with Talon. And now thanks to me, Overwatch’s brand has been tarnished and Blackwatch is now discovered worldwide.”

Gérard lifts his arm and pats the Commander on the back, “It doesn’t matter my friend. What has happened – happened, no point trying to change the past. But I didn’t invite you all the way out to France just to inquire about your actions in Venice. No, no, no that wouldn’t do at all.” The Frenchman stands upright and signals Gabriel to accompany him back inside his glamorous estate, he places a hand over the Commander’s shoulder to help him properly walk. As the two men entered the rowdy commotion they approached the inner hall and situated themselves amongst the crowd in the main ballroom.

“Listen Gabriel.” Gérard began slowly as he shifted his bright and upheaved tone to a more condensed and serious stature. “I wanted to talk to you about a more down to Earth issue. A favour if you will.”

Gabriel shifted his shoulder slightly as the two men approached an oncoming couple that were just leaving the main ballroom. Gabriel and Gérard situated themselves on a nearby desk and proceeded to continue their affairs.

“What’s this about Larcroix?” Gabriel asked as he placed his glass down and folds his arms. Gérard parts his lips before darting his attention elsewhere and freezes momentarily, cracking a hearted smile in the process. Gabriel arches an eyebrow as he follows Gérard’s eyes and trails it onward to see what has held his tongue. At that very moment, it was as if time had slowed down to accommodate his vision on what he had believed to his very soul – the most beautiful woman dawned in a lavish dark purple dress, accompanied with Latin styled heels with a purple orchid placed within the thick of her raven locks – contrasting her pale complexion and sparkling silver accessories, proceeded to walk her way down towards the central floor of the room.

“That…” Gérard said suddenly, stealing Gabriel’s attention. “…is what this is about.”

The Frenchman turned to the Blackwatch Commander and asked in a simple yet stern attitude, “Promise me Gabriel, if anything happens to me – you will _never_ allow any kind of harm or grief fall on her. She’s my darling wife, my jewel in the desert…my everything.”

Gabriel struggled to say anything for several moments. He turned back to watch as the radiating beauty of Amélie Larcroix stride closer and closer to where they were sitting, parting what metaphorically was considered a sea of other suited individuals as they in turn appreciated the woman’s splendor.

“But…why me?” Gabriel murmured finally as he turned quickly back to Gérard. The Frenchman merely smiled, “In this world of conflict and disarray. One must trust those who’ve lived through it.”

Gabriel arched an eyebrow in misunderstanding, yet before he could say anything in reply - the radiant beauty had already arrived.

“Commander Reyes.” Amélie began in a soft and welcoming voice, “Mon amour.” She said with a smile towards her husband. Gérard smiled back as he reached out towards the woman’s hand and kissed it gently, pulling out a chair and offering it to her in the process.

“Gabriel, may I formally introduce my lovely wife Amélie Larcroix.”

“…The pleasure’s all mine.” Reyes murmured in silent awe. The woman smiled at the Blackwatch Commander’s fixation on her.

Gérard stands up abruptly, as if ignoring the obvious injury he had endured and shows no pain whatsoever. “Ladies and gentlemen. May I please have your attention.” The quiet classical music that had accompanied the event’s overall atmosphere gradually dimmed into silence before Gérard proceeded to continue.

“I appreciate the time you’ve taken out of your daily lives and busy schedules to come see me on the progress of my recovery…and it has been my wholehearted inclination to hold this gathering as a celebration to the efforts of you and the organisations in which we serve under. With the night drawing to a close – I believe it is time for us to relieve ourselves on the dance floor. And please…ladies and gentlemen, refrain yourselves from any more beverages.”

The committee snickered and chuckled quietly to the Frenchman’s concluding joke and allowed themselves to take their places with their partners on the massive stage that was the ballroom.

Gérard turns to Amélie and says with grief in his heart, “I’m afraid my dear that I’m unable to accompany you on the dance floor this evening. This leg of mine is doing me no good…”

Amélie only smiles and shakes her head, “No need to apologise for anything my love.”

The Frenchman nudges Gabriel’s left arm, “Perhaps my dear, you would allow Commander Reyes to not leave you isolated from your passion. I know how much you love to dance.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened and shook his head, “N-no. I wouldn’t want to strip you from your right to dance with your wife.”

Gérard sighs, “Look at me Gabriel. I’m in no condition to perform ecstatic movements. Please, I insist.”

Gabriel looks at Gérard with contempt eyes, and then turns his attention to the woman sitting beside them.

“Well…only if your darling wife agrees to it I suppose.”

Amélie nods, “I do not mind at all.” After her sentence she smiles. The two partners begin to make their way towards the centre of the ballroom and begin to hold each other’s frame in unison. Just then, the musicians began to orchestrate Carlos Gardel’s _“Por una cabeza”_ which caused Reyes to change his posture almost mechanically, shifting his right hand closer to the woman’s hip and raising his left hand slightly higher. The distance between the two was closed dramatically, allowing Gabriel to discover a further charm to the woman’s gleaming beauty.

“Sorry…” Gabriel murmured as he began to guide Amélie in focused and truncated steps of the Tango. “…It’s been a while since I danced. Well, been a while since forever really.”

Amélie noticed his lack of fluidity and grace – however nodded as she appreciated the fact that he held his composure and stern frame appropriately, all fundamental attributes to the Tango. They continued to wade through the ballroom in time with the music.

“Your posture is outstanding Monsieur.” The woman began with pursed lips and a quiet tone, “With your lack of practice, you hold yourself up quite well.”

“You think?” Reyes said lacking confidence as he tried not to step on her feet. Amélie smiled as her response.

“Over my shoulder…”

“Huh?”

“Look over my shoulder Monsieur, your eyes are too focused on the ground. Here…”

As the two continued their dance, Amélie released her arm from the taller man’s shoulder and reached for his hand, gripping it with delicate fingers and placing his hand closer around her hip. The already close distance between the two shrunk significantly. Gabriel’s nostrils flared as Amélie’s scent of lavender fragrance assaulted his nose. His mind dazed as the smell of her scent drove him mad with affection, her eyes glistened as her lashes battered together and her lips lined with rouge lipstick shun beneath the lights – _Gérard Larcroix you lucky man_.

“Eyes up.” Amélie reminded Gabriel, stealing his attention away from her ravishing complexion and ensured that his eyes faced forward. The other dancers around them made an effort to avoid the pair, Reyes even noticed the jealous looks of other men whom were unsatisfied with their partners.

“Honestly, I didn’t expect the Tango would be the concluding dance to an event like this.” Gabriel murmured softly.

“Hm, yes. I would’ve expected the Waltz to sum up this sort of occasion. However my husband does have a tendency to overlook tradition.”

“Huh, can’t blame your husband. Blame the musicians sitting all comfortable there.”

“Mm, I wish someone would’ve mentioned something to me in advance – this dress is unsuitable for Latin dances.”

Reyes proceeded to twirl her in several intervals, sending her dress to spread and swirl along with her momentum before returning to their original stance, then promenading across the dance floor.

“Well, your dress looks wonderful Madame Larcroix. Just be grateful that you were fortunate enough to put on Latin heels.” Gabriel smiled as a remark.

“I suppose we should all be grateful that this room could accommodate several guests to dance the Tango.” She replied. Gabriel could only nod as his response as he continued to guide her through the midst of dancing couples. The humidity of the room increased gradually as the song carried on into the night. Reyes himself could feel the heat build beneath his military garments but paid it no mind, as his focus was fixated on the woman in front of him.

“I have to admit Madame.” Gabriel began quietly, “Occasions like these are not my cup of tea. Me being here in your lovely home is an upfront to be honest.”

The woman sighed, “Please. You may address me by name, Amélie. Your presence here is not an upfront, and yes. I can tell that this is not your preferred environment. I must admit in turn, that I hold things like these rather distasteful.”

“Oh?” Reyes replied with surprise as he held his posture more confidently and extending his steps further. Amélie chuckled, confirming her statement.

“Yes. Being the wife of a statesman and official to a paramilitary organisation can lead to many tiresome and drawn events.” After the woman says this, her body pressed closer to the man’s broad frame – urching the Blackwatch Commander. The music ascended, causing Reyes’s body to react automatically – holding her close and gliding her across the dance floor. Their faces practically brushed side by side with this swift motion. With these ecstatic movements, Reyes catches constant whiffs the woman’s raven hair – driving him mentally crazy. Silently groaning as his mind constantly jogged the process of him _actually_ dancing with this ravaging figure. What cruel God gave him this opportunity? What cruel God decided to allocate her to someone else?

“In all honesty… _Gabriel_. I fear that my own husband has ultimately been married elsewhere. And as am I.”

The Blackwatch Commander continued to persist his silence, unsure of what to make of her sudden announcement. Realising the man’s confusion and literal interpretation – Amélie chuckled, pearling her glistening teeth while it contrasted her rouge lipstick.

“My darling Gérard is married to his work. And me? I’m married to the art of my craft – dancing.”

Gabriel nods, understanding her words and continued to lead this close dance. At the climax of the music – Gabriel turns and twirls the woman, allowing her dress to once more spread across the ballroom and circulate in an entrancing state before finally holding her firmly in a final state, his hand stern behind her back – and her’s clenched tightly around the taller man’s shoulders. As the music concludes, the surrounding dancers begin to make their way off the dance floor, each one gossiping in murmurs and distant chatter before eventually droning to silence as their eyes returned to the centre of the room.

Gabriel. Amélie. Held tight in each other’s arms. Eyes shut and muscles tensed. Their frame frozen like a painting and their emotions near expressionless. Amélie herself, like a swan in the middle of a pond gracefully fluttering her dress like feathers gliding against the surface of the pond’s clear water. For Gabriel – nothing but a frame, containing the gorgeous image presented before their audience. For a man ‘who hasn’t danced in forever’, he certainly remembered much from when he did. As Amélie opened her eyes, she smiles towards the Blackwatch Commander, his mouth parting a smile in return.

“All eyes are upon us Commandant Reyes.” Amélie whispers into his ear as their frames were still frozen in each other’s arms. Gabriel and Amélie slowly released each other from their frames, their eyes slowly observing around the room as eyes of surprise and awe watch them like sulking hawks. Silence followed for several moments before the abrupt sliding of a chair broke the eerie stillness and the sounds of surplus clapping initiated. All eyes diverted their attention to the noise, seeing none other than Gérard Larcroix himself smiling and colliding his open hands together in unison. Not long after, the clapping soon spread around the room as guests and other invitees joined in the occasion.

“Life is but a stage…Gabriel.” Amélie began as the uproarious clapping continued. Gabriel turned to her silent, unsure of what she meant. Her eyes met his and her lips parted, “A stage. To appease the masses, to appease their social expectations. It’s how everything in this world acts.”

Reyes pondered for a moment and recognized the truth behind this statement. Every action committed, every word that has been said – has all been for the sake of appeasement and upholding social expectation. The expectation of Overwatch to preserve world peace, the stage in which the world watches as the UN slowly dismantles itself piece by piece, the platform in which the world spectates in anticipation as Overwatch and other nation states attempt to battle threats such as Talon. Those words that have been spoken held much truth and wisdom – but Reyes never expected to hear them from someone like her.

As the applause dimmed to silence, the room eventually returned to it’s drawn and boorish status of chatter and gossip. As the night drew to it’s end, most of the invitees had returned to their homes Gabriel stood outside of the estate accompanied by Gérard and his wife at the foot their estate.

“Well Gérard, I have to admit – this might’ve been the most _eventful_ occasion that I’ve been on in recent years.” Gabriel smirked.

“Mounsier Reyes…” The Frenchman began in a mellowed tone, “All events at the Larcroix estate are always open to you. Will you be heading back to Headquarters now?”

Reyes nodded, “Yeah. Just hoping Jesse hasn’t torn up the Blackwatch unit while I was gone.”

Gérard laughed and confirmed his notion, “Well, we hope you return safely Commander Reyes.”

Amélie spoke in turn, “I appreciated your company tonight Gabriel. And perhaps the next time you decide to visit France you may accompany us on more social occasions.”

Gabriel nodded, “That would be nice.” And with that Gabriel began to turn around towards the car that was waiting to pick him up. As he opened the door to the car he turned his head and watched as the couple began to disappear into the doors of the estate. Yet he noticed the womanly figure turned her head around as well. Gabriel’s eyes met Amélie’s – confirming each other’s thoughts. That even though their dialogue and time with each other was brief, they had felt more connected with each other than with anyone else.

_‘I promise…Gérard. I promise.’_

 

* * *

 

 

Reaper snapped back to reality, placing the picture back on the shelf and stepped several paces back away from it. He exhaled a gravelling sigh as his eyes looked above to the ceiling.

_‘Gérard…I’m sorry I did nothing.’_

Suddenly a noise rang out behind him. Reaper turned with his firearm in hand but he was too late, a figure leapt from the shadows and tackled his body to the ground. Reaper growled as he prepped his feet against the figure’s torso and launched the shadowy figure into the air and making it land behind him. As Reaper staggered to his feet, the moonlight shining through the window beside them casted the figure into view.

With piercing yellow eyes that gleamed in the moonlight, teeth bared as she panted in exhaustion, arms raised in a fighting position – ready to combat the wraith. Reaper paused as he realised that it was really her…Amélie Larcroix. The same Amélie Larcroix that Reaper knew all those years ago.

“You!” Widowmaker said scornfully, “Come to apprehend me like the rest of these bastards?! Come to take me back to Talon and wipe out everything that I’ve ever known?! Ever loved?!”

“…Amélie.” Reaper murmured beneath his breath with concern.

“I won’t let Talon…Sombra…you, use me ever again.”

“Widowmaker…wait!” Reaper exclaimed just before the woman began to strike him. Quickly, Reaper parries her attacks and makes an effort to dodge her strikes instead of applying a force of his own. The Sniper did not seek to apply the same mercy. Relentlessly, her strikes were precise – each meant to bludgeon, break and evidently: kill.

“Damn it Widowmaker! Listen to me!” Reaper roared as he took care to not harm her in anyway.

“Don’t call me that!” She screamed as she sent a roundhouse kick to the wraith’s ribcage, winding him and catching Reaper off guard. Quickly he returned to his defensive fighting stance, blocking a second roundhouse kick with his forearms before it reached his head.

“I’m not here to hurt you!”

“Liar!”

Widowmaker steps several paces back – disconnecting her recon visor and throwing it at Reaper. He dodges the headpiece and watches it shatter behind him from the force applied from the woman’s throw. While he was distracted, Widowmaker quickly runs up and wraps her legs around Reaper’s hips and used her momentum to throw the wraith off his balance and land against ground with a thud. His entire body was shocked with pain, he raised his arms attempting to block the barrage of punches the Sniper was throwing.

“Amélie! Just stop and listen to what I have to say!” Reaper shouted before copping a steel-like strike against the side of his face. Growling with impatience, Reaper caught the second punch with his open hand and relentlessly catches the woman’s second wrist with his other hand.

“Listen to me!” Reaper growled however in a much lower and softer tone. His eyes looked at her, eyes wide and eager for blood, teeth grit against each other and a thick strand of raven hair that escaped the holds of her ponytail trailing down the centre of her face. Rage filled her expression, a rage he knew too well.

“I’m here to help you! Understand? Help you!”

“Why would you help me? What do you stand to gain from it?” Amélie asked with distaste, her tone still retaining the doubt in her voice.

“I gain nothing from it! I’m _choosing_ to help you!” Reaper could feel after several moments that the force behind her clenched fist began to loosen.

“If you try anything, know that I’m more than prepared to kill you.”

Reaper nodded, not doubting her abilities. Amélie begins to stand up and step several paces away from the wraith as he begins to stagger up to his feet. His mask began to feel the humidity rise from his chest and neck, unsure of what was the cause of this. Nervousness? Fatigue? Or was it simply reflection?

“A murderer like you. Helping me. Absurd.” Reaper could hear the woman murmur beneath her breath as she folds her arms and continues to observe him with skeptical eyes. That’s right…she still didn’t know who he really was.

“Amélie…I.” He paused midsentence; unsure of how to even approach this topic, better yet how he would predict the outcome of this. “Egh. I’m helping you because of a promise I made.”

“Tch, from whom?” Amélie continued to ask with cynicism.

“From…Gérard.”

Reaper had hoped that maybe this would bring the conversation to the next stage. It did the opposite. Amélie prepped her feet ready to lunge towards the wraith.

“Don’t mock me crétin!”

“Hear me out Amélie.” Reaper said quickly before the woman made any rash movement. “This promise was made a long time ago.”

“A long time ago? How do you know my husband? What promise?” She paused briefly as she lowered her stance and finally holds the patience to hear the wraith’s words. Reaper’s throat urged him to just spit it out, but his mind restricted him from doing so.

“I just knew him.”

“I’m not satisfied with that answer.” Amélie said as impatience slowly crept back to her tone, “Remove your mask.”

 Reaper freezes as she looked at the woman in front of him. She wasn’t joking, she clearly wasn’t. But for the sake of understanding and perhaps a sense of hope from the wraith, he did as he was told. Two clawed fingers reached beneath his mask and gradually pulled it from his face. Widowmaker narrows her eyes and tries to cut through the shadows that obscured his face.

 With a thump, he lets go of his mask and begins to walk into the moonlight – throwing his hood back and awaited her response.

 Silence hung in the air. The ocean lurking outside the Chateau’s stone walls crashed against it’s frame which was the only ambient sound which intruded the eerie reticence.

 “My God…” Amélie whispered with widened eyes. “That’s…impossible. I thought you – I thought you died. I thought you died along with him.”

The ocean waves crashed against the Chateau’s stone exterior, accompanying the eerie silence that lingered over the island home for a long time.

 


End file.
